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*police radio* (humming) (U-God) |
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Night falling, red dawn, without warning or beef |
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Late night city life, in the dark |
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Manhattan fog, creep wit' cats and dogs become meat |
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All that is sacred |
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My body lay naked |
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Aching for some weeks, maybe it was a hostage taken |
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Some money making |
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Jamaican High for thuggery disgrace on did him ugly, kicked his bloody face in |
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Maybe he was mistaken for some great man |
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In a dirty place he lay in a gray basement |
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Shaking his scabs, crack bag, stabbed up four times, strong! |
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With a long rusty |
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Jason Dumped the smoldering corpse in a dumpster truck of garbage |
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In this mad man hell he laid in |
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Logical was hatred |
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Some replacement killer came through, left small traces |
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Engraved his chest |
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Left him for death |
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Left him on his last breath |
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Crawling, just to make a statement (hu hu huh) |
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In this matrix |
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Subconsciously gazing the soft shell of a man |
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Somehow found, amazing! |
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By the department of sanitation |
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Under city lights to the hospital |
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Hit him with the chest rockers, shockers |
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Pop him open just to keep his heart racing (Clear) (Chorus) |
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Will he make it? |
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Will he survive? |
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Terror in his eyes |
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Night the city cries |
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Payback is crime |
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He damn near died |
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Banished my wounds not mine |
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The city cries, drama ride |
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Guns out the window, slide |
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Before me now the city cries (U-God) |
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Unconscious for months (beep beep) |
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Deep in coma shock |
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When you awoke, it was hope |
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Dry throat |
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Choking off tools, being fed ice cubes |
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Pain in you head |
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Change of the bed |
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Doped up and soaking while police on top |
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Doctors monitor your heart (heart beating) |
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Sergeant Bilko came in with some zombie ass cops |
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What we have here the chief embraces |
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In his hands he pulls out two briefcases |
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A picture popped up on computer |
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One woman, one man, sharpshooter |
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He asked you do you remember these two faces? ' |
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Mind you you're blind, completely hung out to dry, victimized |
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Violated as if you was raped |
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What the hell |
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You escape well |
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Police investigated the scene |
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Scrape the crime scene |
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Down to the bone panel |
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While you lay frail in the enamel |
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Under you nails in the scuffle |
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You scratched some |
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DNA samples that match |
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The blood on your clothes are not yours, it was his |
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Right before you blacked out, took that blow |
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In September, you can't remember |
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You ripped his nose ring |
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Right out his nose |
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Before he took it four times in the ribs |
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But somehow he lived > |
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From the little bit of blood you grabbed |
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His skin type, you ran it back to forensic labs |
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Your finger prints popped up |
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This is where it begins |
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Your street name was |
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Henry the |
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Saint Staten |
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Island's where your crib was at |
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Park Hill project was your outlet |
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You was a target |
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Or organized outfit |
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Not by the mafia, this where it get chills |
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Your wife hired some hitman to kill you for your ten million dollar will |
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Money fund drill |
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Booby trapped perhaps |
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Left his food for the rats |
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Now... (Chorus) |
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Will you make it? |
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Will you survive? |
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Terror in your eyes |
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Night the city cries |
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Payback is crime |
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You damn near died |
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Bandaged by wounds not mine |
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The city cries, drama ride |
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Guns out the window slide |
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Before me now the city cries (U-God) |
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One cop's weakness |
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Was heroic, he exposed pieces |
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Leaked out information |
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On surveillance where his wife was staying |
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Police tracked her down |
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Blood hound on the east side of town |
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In some skyscraper |
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They had video tapes of her |
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And some porn star fling, her and the next door neighbor |
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And the killer with the nose ring |
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But the police didn't have a case ' |
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Cause the victim couldn't remember a thing |
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Not even a face |
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He had to clear his name |
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He bit off more than he could chew |
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His absent minded flash backs grew |
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And grew to hate |
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He had to escape |
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To ICU On the second day he came through |
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He concocted the impossible |
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The psych' slipped out the cuffs |
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Somehow killed to armed guards (bang, bang) |
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Grabbed their guns |
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Before he fled the hospital, slivers into the night |
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If police hunting was right |
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He's seeking for justice |
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Off point bulletin |
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On a black male |
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Jamaican Meanwhile a dark lookable crook |
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Is in a alleyway for retaliation |
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A limo pulled across the street from a gas station |
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He saw his wife |
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And the nigga that knifed him |
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He wanted to mash him |
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He was real patient |
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A devilish growl sensation |
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And the rain grew to a foul meditation (sound of rain) |
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Of betrayal, murder revenge |
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Bitch that set you up will get hers in the end |
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In the hall of the lobby floor |
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Security on post |
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Got gun butted three times in the head with the old dusty toast |
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Now he slipped past the video cameras undetected |
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To the 25th floor |
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Apartment 504 |
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When he rang the bell (ding dong) sweet voice said |
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She cracked it open, her reply |
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I thought you was dead |
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In a matter of seconds and inches |
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The door was hanging off the hinges (crash) |
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Her eyes met the metal |
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She screamed |
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Oh my God |
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Out the back room the killer with the nose ring |
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Smashed the nigga in the head with a porcelain vase |
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Shots ricochet like lightning roads |
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Put the bimbo in arms |
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The drapes caught on fire, with no alarm |
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They crashed out the window, but they somehow held on |
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Dangling from a hundred stories high |
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Don't doubt him |
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Will he make it? |
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Continued next album (Chorus) |
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Will he make it? |
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Will he survive? |
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Terror in his eyes |
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Night the city cries |
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Payback is crime |
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He damn near died |
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Bandaged by wounds not mine |
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The city cries, drama ride |
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Guns out the window slide... |
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Golden Arm is as good as his reputation says |
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With his bare hands he stood all of us off |
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And if he had weapons... |
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Golden Arm never uses weapons |
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Says he doesn't need them |
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He says using his bare arms is the best |
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And he's probably right |
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Nobody's beaten him yet |
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Just using his arms he beat us all then |
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We had no chance |
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He had us cold |
